
C3ass ES_3J 

-Book-A^Il 



Copyright N°_ 






COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT; 




The pathway leading down through the pines, 
With gray rocks leaning to its side 
All verdure crowned. 

From My Window. Page 14. 



In the Shadow of 
the Pines 



BY 

FANNIE A. DAMON 

Author of HEART TREASURES, Etc. 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 

ALFRED A. FURMAN 




CLINTON, MASS. 

The W. J. Coulter Press 
1907 



*& 



f UBftARY of CQN-^E^ 
! Two Copies Kecen 

! JAN 7 1903 
i 

iiOliyneiii entry 

I bom b. 



Copyright, 1907 

BY 

FANNIE A. DAMON 



Zo tbe ipoete 

The Sweet Singers, from whom I have drawn 
inspiration and help; whose music, sounding 
in the deeps of my soul has been the key note 
to broader thinking and nobler living, 

I would dedicate these pages. 

PANNIE A. DAMON. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

In the Shadow of the Pines .... 13 

From My Window 14 

A Sacred Fellowship 16 

The Closed Gentian . . . . . . 17 

They All Come Back 18 

Chrysanthemums 20 

The Tides of the Spirit 21 

Good Rest 22 

The Fount of Blessing 23 

Nature's Chimes 24 

The Blessed Life 25 

October . . . . . . . . 26 

Mercy's Cry 27 

William Ewart Gladstone .... 28 

Half Mast -29 

Eglantine ........ 30 

Clara Barton . 31 

The Shrine of Tah-ki . ... 33 

The Spirit of the Past 35 

The Fated Village 37 

Old Portraits 38 

Moonlight . . ... . . . 39 

Angel Wife .41 

Freedom Song 42 

Darkness and Light 43 

Evil 44 

Frost Flowers 45 

Sweet Death 46 



Page 

The Spirit World 46 

The Way to Heaven 47 

The Golden Key 47 

Saint Frances 48 

Laus Deo .49 

A Vanished Race 49 

Morn 50 

Reunited 50 

The Fadeless Flower 51 

Autumn Leaves . . . . . .51 

Soul Fetters 52 

Curfew Bells 53 

The Magic Sea 54 

Thl Departed 55 

Ralph Waldo Emerson 55 

Friends • . .56 

Hospital Ship — Bay State .... 56 

Omnipresence 57 

The Passing Year 57 

May's Advent 58 

Asphiation ....... 58 

The Beacon Light 59 

The Song of the Bells 60 

Sunday 60 

Memory Bells 61 

At Last 62 

April Rain 63 

Witch Hazel 64 

Sleep ......... 64 

The Vesper Hymn 65 

Las Ca Sas 6Q 

Sympathy ........ 66 

A Common Heaven 67 

Inward Light 67 

Peace 68 

vi 



Page 

Love in Absence 69 

Disenchantment 69 

Matin Songs 70 

Communion 70 

Edward Everett Hale 71 

Sabbatia 71 

Sunset on Wachusett 72 

" Peace I Leave with You " .... 72 

Angel Mother 73 

Larkspur 74 

Nature's Patterns 74 

Fern Folk 75 

Our Heroes 76 



vii 



INTRODUCTION 

This age is a notable one in the history of man- 
kind, and if we fail to perceive its comparative 
importance it is chiefly because we are a part of 
it, and because the world actors are still upon the 
stage clothed in their little mortality, and have 
not yet become hallowed in our eyes by death and 
time; as mountains at a distance look more sub- 
lime, seem invested with greater grandeur. Such 
an epoch demands a unique literary expression, 
which must accord in form and style with the 
temper of the times, and be their shadow and 
officer; even as the leaves of a tree denote its 
species, or as a perfume recalls the flower from 
which it is invisibly born. And so we find that in 
this hurly-burly age in whose life stream mind and 
body are strained to the utmost tension, prose pre- 
dominates as the vehicle of thought; prose clear, 
abrupt, vigorous, marshalled in short sentences, 
and marching lightly cumbered with ornament 
direct to its goal; while the gentle form of poetry 
shrinks into the background, and abdicates the 
scepter she wielded in those earlier days when a 



mysterious fate led the wandering feet of Shakes- 
peare to the theatres of London, and steered the 
fragile barks of Columbus safely through unknown 
seas. 

But under this despotism of prose, the voice 
of poetry cannot be entirely silenced. It is heard 
in humorous or satiric tones through the crowded 
haunts of cities. It echoes from the seclusion of 
village or of mountain-side many a note of pastoral 
beauty or deep religious sentiment. That jeweled 
cloak worn through the imaginative ages is now 
frequently thrown over trivial uses, making the 
heart of a genuine devotee to grieve; but they who 
have breathed the air — the celestial air of Castalie — 
will never so degrade the office of their glorious 
priestess. The sacred fire burns on their bosoms' 
altar, kindling their thoughts and emotions to a 
modest enthusiasm. The great masters are a 
beacon to them, shining over the gloomy gulf of 
time, and inviting the vessel of their verse into the 
ports and estuaries of fame. In an era of skepti- 

S 

cim they preserve the tender memorials of faith; 
and when, as now, the ogre pessimism questions 
every article of human creeds, they linger in those 
gardens of optimism where all objects are robed 
in the delicate light of confidence and hope. In 
times when nature grows too languid to produce 
supreme geniuses, they do not fail to keep a vestal 
fire burning on the shrine of art. With ceaseless 



steps they pursue the phantoms of ideality which 
builds them even in this world a nest of happiness ; 
and in humble ways and in the night of life brings 
them serenity and cheer. 

In this class I may be permitted to place the 
author of the present volume, whose grave and 
reverent character was well illustrated in the 
poems of her earlier book, "Heart Treasures." 
The dominant note in this collection is a pious 
resignation to the ills of existence, a measureless 
faith in the soul's eternity under the providence of 
God. Her doctrine of submissive patience is 
typified in the closing stanzas of the poem en- 
titled "A Retrospect:" 

"And as we gaze upon the past's rich store 
That still is ours, and count it o'er and o'er; 
Number the blessings in His mercy given, 
And all the joys that's made of earth a heaven; 

"We will no longer question in our pain 
What of the past? What good doth yet remain? 
But make the joys and sorrows yet to come 
As stepping-stones to lead us further on." 

A similar inspiration pervades the companion 
pieces, notably, "The Prayer for the Dead," "At 
Eventide it Will be Light," and "Growing Old," 
so closely allied to the religious spirit which 
doubtless is the birthplace of all art. 

In the work now before us, "In the Shadow of 
the Pines," there is a greater diversity of subjects. 
The sonnet form is introduced. The pageants of 

xi 



nature unrolled at morn and eve, in winter and 
summer, strike in the author's heart a deeper 
sympathetic chord. Altruistic deeds of high-souled 
men and women receive their portion of praise, 
and seem to her 

A silver stream 
Breaking with splendor from the lake divine 
Whence all things flow; 

while the genius of evil, deathless as it is in the 
universe, saddens and subdues her muse. To 
her nature presents a calm and faultless face, 
and speaks the language of tenderness and peace. 
She loves to commune on hill and dale with the 
universal mother, revealing in quiet notes the 
impressions made upon her mind by such con- 
fessionals. This she feels a felicity forever, and 
so companioned deems that life is a privilege and a 
benediction, — a prelude to never-ending acts in 
the drama of existence where the lesson is duty, 
and the prize, character. 

ALFRED A. FURMAN. 



xii 



IN THE SHADOW OF THE PINES 

In the shadow of the pines 
Watching as the day declines, 
As the shades of evening creep 
And the darkness grows more deep, 
Dreaming of the olden times, 
In the shadow of the pines. 

Youthful days with rainbow hue, 
Rosy-tinted, come in view; 
And the sun shines through the rifts, 
And the gathered darkness lifts, 
Lighting as with touch divine 
E'en the shadows of the pine. 

But the years that lie between 
Still have many a golden gleam; 
Sunny spots along life's way 
Where our feet delight to stray 
As we watch the deepening lines 
In the shadow of the pines. 

In the future years that seem 
Like a dim, prophetic dream, 
Who will on this beauty gaze 
Lost in thought of other days, 
Watching as the day declines 
In the shadow of the pines? 

13 



FROM MY WINDOW 

From my window, looking northward 
On the grassy lawn outspread; 

Checkered o'er with lights and shadows, 
From the maple boughs o'erhead, — 

Scene like fairyland enchants me, 

Stately fir trees, grim and tall, 
Stand like sentinels on duty, 

Keeping watch and ward o'er all — 

While the flowering shrubs beneath them 
With their weight of snowy bloom, 

'Gainst their dark and sombre background, 
Lend a charm to their deep gloom. 

From my eastern window gazing, 
What more lovely can compare! 

Poet's pen, or artist's pencil, 
Cannot trace a scene more fair, 

Than this bit of rustic landscape 
That here greets my wondering view, 

That from dawn, to daylight's closing, 
Is forever fresh and new, 

With its grassy, sloping woodland, 

And the pathway leading down 
Through the pines, with gray rocks leaning 
To its side, all verdure crowned. 

Here, the morning sunlight falleth 

In slant rays its trees among; 
And the early warbler trilleth 

Songs, the sweetest ever sung, — 

14 



While the western sunlight lingers, 
Lighting with its farewell gleams, 

Tree, and shrub, and mossy upland, 
With the radiance of its beams. 

From my southern casement leaning, 

I behold another scene 
Stretched upon fair Nature's canvas, 

Set in frame of living green! 

In the background, trees and hedge-row, 
And between, a latticed bower, 

Overhung with drooping branches, 
Clinging vine, and fragrant flower. 

In the foreground, see young Triton 
Blowing, from his "wreathed horn," 

Pearly drops, in soft spray falling 
On the velvet tufted lawn! 

While the ferns and flowers rising 
From their green and mossy bed, 

Raise their glowing cups to heaven, 
Grateful for the blessing shed. 

To the westward, but more distant, 
Fairest scene of beauty lies! 

In the background, bold Wachusett 
Lifts its summit towards the skies; 

And below lies hill and valley, 
Wood, and field, and meadow fair, 

With the homes of thrft and plenty 
Scattered o'er them, here and there. 



15 



To my raptured gaze, the landscape 
Like to charming pictures seem; 

And I lose myself in wonder, 
As in visions of a dream, — 

For at morn, at noon, or nightfall, 
Wheresoe'er my eye may turn, 

Are the scenes forever shifting, — 
Newer beauties I discern, 

With the changing lights and shadows; 

Till, at last, when day is done, 
With the glories of the sunset, 

They are blended into one. 



A SACRED FELLOWSHIP 

Alone with the great heart and soul of Nature! 

No sound of voice, no peal of organ tone 
To break the stillness, and the deep enchantment 

That comes from worship of her forms, alone. 

Alone within the quiet wood to wander; 

To breathe the fragrant odors of the pine, 
And watch the sunbeams through the green boughs 
flicker 

Lighting the shadows, as with touch divine. 

To gaze upon the wide expanse of ocean, 
Upon the waves that backward come and go; 

To mark the power that moves its mighty waters, 
And governs all its ebb-tide and its flow! 

16 



Alone to stand upon the mountain summit, 
And gaze in wonder on the scene around! 

Lost in the grandeur of this vast creation! 
Filled with a sense of deepest awe profound. 

To turn from Nature with her myriad voices, 
To that still voice that speaks within the soul 

In clearest accents, evr more proclaiming 
"Thou art a part of this stupendous whole!" 

"The same great Being who o'er worlds presideth, 
Who holdest, in the hollow of His hand 

All the vast waters, for thy being careth 

More than thy doubting heart can understand. 

"Thou art akin to all great souls immortal, 
And heir to all things noble and divine! 

No longer kneel in trembling awe and wonder 
Before the works of Nature so sublime; 

"But know thou art a type of thy Creator! 

No form of life, no product of the sod 
So closely bears relation to its Maker! 

Thy soul the temple of the living God." 



THE CLOSED GENTIAN 

Does sorrow, deep enfolded, lie 
Within thy buds of azure hue, 

That thou dost hide it from the gaze 
Of the cold world's unpitying view? 

A grief, that lies too deep for tears, 
Close, closely hid from mortal sight 



17 



Behind those veined and drooping lids, 
That ne'er will open to the light! 

Or does some secet weigh them down? 

Some pain, of which the world knows not, 
That, buried in thine inmost soul, 

Can never, never be forgot? 

Surely some language written lies 
Folded within thy violet bloom, 

As lies earth's hidden treasures deep, 
Within the dark and silent tomb! 

O, child of solitude thou art! 

Hiding within the forest glen, 
Or by the brooklet's shady bank, 

Far from the sight and sound of men. 

Teach me the lesson of thy life! 

When envy throws her poisonous dart, 
Or sorrow's cold and bitter winds, 

Sweep in rude blasts around my heart, 

To hide my grief as deep within; 

And let the warmth of love's bright ray 
Expand my soul, till it shall bloom 

As thou, beside life's darkened way. 



THEY ALL COME BACK 

They all come back; these sunny hours and golden, 
Our yearning hearts have waited for so long, 

When earth was drear, and winter gave no token 
Of summer bloom, of sunshine, or of song. 

18 



The crocus, through the snowdrift bravely peeping; 

The violet, hiding in some quiet spot; 
The sweet arbutus, from its soft bed creeping, 

Are never, by God's watchfulness, forgot. 

For when the springtime wakes to life and gladness, 
They all come back, these absent friends and dear, 

Clothed in their old familiar forms of beauty, 
Brightening our pathway, bringing light and cheer. 

The roses shed again their fragrant petals ; 

The snowy lilies on the lake's clear breast 
Open their eyes to greet God's light and sunshine, 

Then close again, in peaceful sleep and rest. 

The apple boughs again with fruit are laden; 

The fields once more are white with ripened corn; 
And homeward with their sheaves of grain returning, 

Is heard afar the reaper's harvest song. 

The winter moon shines with the same old lustre; 

The yule log burns as brightly on the hearth, 
Where children's voices, and their merry laughter, 

Mingle once more in Christmas joy and mirth. 

But do they all come back, our loved and lost ones? 

Is not the bridge that spans Death's silent stream, 
Worn with the footprints of the loved returning? 

Alas! it cannot be we idly dream. 

Though absent they may be to outward seeming, 
Our listening spirits catch their every tone, 

And note the love-light in their fond eyes beaming, 
When soul meets soul, and love doth claim its own. 



19 



CHRYSANTHEMUMS 

Sweet blossoms of the olden time! 

Like some long-lost, forgotten strain, 
Struck, once again on Memory's cord, 

They bring the absent back again. 

Again Thanksgiving day comes round! 

And though without 'tis chill and drear, 
Within the sacred walls of home 

Love lights the hearth, and all is cheer. 

Once more, through Memory's glass I see 
A cottage window, quaint and low, 

Filled with its wealth of Autumn's bloom, — 
Chrysanthemums, as white as snow. 

Clearly they speak to me as then, 
And kind home greetings they repeat; 

My mother's voice in welcome blends 
With their rich odor, faint and sweet. 

In their white bloom I see again 
The snowy cloth, and table laid 

With tempting food, a goodly store, — 
Her patient, loving hands have made. 

O beauteous flowers of childhood loved, 
I bend in rapture o'er you still! 

My thirsty soul at Memory's fount, 
Doth stoop, and freely drinks its fill. 



20 



THE TIDES OF THE SPIRIT 

The tide is low; the pebbly beach 

Is strewn with wrecks from out the main! 

But soon the waves that ebb, will flow, 
And bear them back to sea again. 

So ebbs and flows the spirit's tide! 

The thoughts that sweep, like wave on wave, 
But to recede, or lose themselves 

Like shells, within an ocean grave. 

As ever restless moans the sea, 
Longing to clasp the distant strand; 

Beating its shore unceasingly, 
Yet stayed, by word of His command; 

The yearning soul within us strives, 

Impatient of its long delay; 
Eager to break the bonds that hold 

The spirit chained, from day to day! 

But, mid the seeming hush, that broods 
O'er ocean's slumbers, deep and still, 

From out its heaving breast there comes, 
Anon, a sudden sigh and thrill; 

A far off murmur, growing clear, 

Changing to note of battle din, 
Or tread of an advancing host, 

As once again the tide rolls in; 

So, when Life's surges backward sweep, 
Disheartened in their weary quest, 

And we can hear their idle waves, 
Low sobbing, with a sad unrest; 

21 



Then, will the waiting tide roll in 
From out the spirit's boundless sea, 

Till all its inmost depths are stirred; 
Filled with the soul's immensity. 



GOOD REST 

A summer retreat for working girls, at Lancaster, Mass. 
Founded by Mrs. Nathaniel Thayer 

How sweet the name to weary souls 
With labor, or with care opprest! 

To youthful hearts, with toil grown old, 
This calm and blest retreat — "Good Rest." 

Far from the city's noise and strife, 

From all its sin, its want and woes, 
This peaceful Home brings pure delight; 

Its quiet haunts invite repose. 

O, blest are they who, for a time, 
Can lay life's vexing cares aside, 

And in its cool, refreshing shade, 
In calm content and joy abide. 

Thrice blest is she, whose noble mind, 
The thought of others' good conceived. 

Whose kindly heart and open hand, 

Earth's weary, toilworn souls relieved. 

And yearly, as the season comes, 
Her generous sympathy she proves, 

And this fair dwelling, refuge meet, 
Stands, a memorial of her love. 

22 



THE FOUNT OF BLESSING 

Chilled-water Fountain, Presented to the Town of Clinton, 

Mass., by members and friends of the W. C. T. XL, 

October 21, 1903. 

The crystal draught that Heaven has brewed, 

O, taste it, ye who will! 
Drink from this fountain by the way, 

And shun the loathsome still! 
For in its cup a blessing lies, 

All bounteous and free, 
Poured lavishly from God's own hand 

And proffered unto thee. 

No poison lurks within its depths; 

No fatal drop to slay; 
But fresh and pure from Nature's springs 

It hastens on its way; 
Trickling adown Wachusett's slope, 

At first a tiny rill, 
It wanders on, content and free, 

Pursuing its sweet will 

Till Wekepeke holds it fast 

Within its close embrace; 
Then want, and strange device of man 

Allures it from its place. 
All honor be to those whose thought, 

Whose timely word and deed, 
Gave to us of this water pure, 

To serve our every need! 

And Clinton's daughters, by their gift 

That Will for long endure, 
Would give it out in cooling draughts 

To all her rich and poor. 

23 



For if to these, His little ones, 

A cup of water's given 
In his blest name, the loving deed 

Is registered in Heaven. 



NATURE'S CHIMES 

When woods are green, and all the air is filled 

With sounds of life, with insects on the wing, 
With bees, that gaily hum from flower to flower, 

And warbling birds, that in the tree tops sing; 
My heart, responsive to these sights and sounds, 

Sings low in clear melodious rhymes, — 
With tuneful breeze and softly whispering leaves, 

An echo sweet to Nature's gladsome chimes. ■ 

When all the woods are tinged with colors gay, 

As Autumn flings her painted banners out, 
And Summer's army, in its green array, 

Has, by its flaming sword, been put to rout, — 
My heart again takes up sweet Nature's strain 

As forth I wander through her leaf-strewn path. 
And listen, as the merry crickets sing 

In the deep coolness of the aftermath. 

When woods are bare, and Nature's icy hands 

Lie folded still upon her pulseless breast; 
When chilling winds make sad and bitter moan, 

Like souls of sorrow in their deep unrest; 
My heart lists not to Winter's sore complaint 

But sings the while, though Nature's lips are 
dumb, 
Waiting the time when she shall touch the strings, 

And bird notes tell that Spring again has come. 

24 



THE BLESSED LIFE 

In memory of John Sawin, deceased Dec. 9, 1904. 

"Mirth was his medicine of life, and industry his prayer for 
daily bread. Every day of his life was rich with love for others ; 
and every hour was jewelled with joy." 

O, the blessed, the beautiful life! 

The life of a man among men; 

Who lived, and labored and loved, 

A brother to all and a friend! 

He has laid life's burdens and cares aside 

And joined the loved and the glorified. 

O, the quiet, the peaceful life, 
That flowed like a river on, 
Broadening its channel year by year 
Through the cycles now past and gone, 
Ere the Boatman came at eventide 
To row him gently over the tide. 

O, the free and the fearless life ! 
The life without flaw or stain; 
Honest in thought, in word and deed, 
Worthy his highest aim! 
Nobly he battled with zeal and might 
For truth, for liberty and for right. 

O, the brave, victorious life! 

Like a hero when wars are done 

Calmly he waited the summoning call, 

The call of his Leader, home; 

Then gently laid life's armor down 

For the soldier's meed, and the victor's crown. 



25 



OCTOBER 

O, the bright, the golden glory 

Of this rare October day! 
Fairest month of all the season, 

Theme of many a poet's lay! 
I would touch thy magic harp strings; 

Sing anew, in lighter strain, 
To the Harvester's blythe carol, 

And the creaking of the wain. 

Brighter grows the crimson blushes 

On the apple's rounded cheek; 
Yellow as the Autumn sunlight 

Hangs the ripe and downy peach; 
While, from overflowing vineyards, 

Grapes in clustering sweetness lie, 
Purple as the deepning colors 

Of thy lovely sunset sky. 

In the fields, like hosts encamping, 

Stand the tents of golden corn! 
Through a yellow haze the sunlight 

Looks upon a world, new born! 
All the trees ablaze with glory, 

Like the burning bush, we're told, 
Out of which the Lord was speaking 

To His chosen one of old. 

But the span of life is lengthening, 
And its days are gliding on; 

Soon, another'll wield thy sceptre 
- And thou wilt, alas! be gone; 

But thine image we will cherish, 
Closely press to memory's heart, 

For the days that give us pleasure 
Never can from us depart. 

26 



MERCY'S CRY 

Hear, O hear, kind Mercy pleading 
At the foot of giant Wrong! 

See her tears in pity streaming! 
List her cry — "O Lord how long 

"Must thy children faint and famish? 

Help, O help them I implore! 

From the fullness of thy bounty 

Give unto the starving poor! 

"Lift the heavy yoke that's goading 
Helpless men like beasts of toil 
Struggling, dying without number, 
Slaves within a tyrant's thrall. 

"Hollow eyes look up beseeching! 

Wasted hands seek alms in vain! 
But the sound of coffers groaning 
Only echoes to their pain. 

"Will the despots ne'er give over? 

Rise they not, those spirits brave, 
From Havana's turbid waters, 
With avenging power to save?" 

Hark! the iron bolts are loosening; 

Freedom's sons have heard the cry, 
Mercy's plea for help entreating, 

And are arming ere they die. 

Light on Cuba's isle is streaming! 

God has heard His children's prayer! 
Lo! Heaven's bow of promise spanning 

Earth's dark pathway of despair. 



27 



WILLIAM EWART GLADSTONE 

How meet that he, whose quiet hours were spent 

Within those walls, should, at the last, repose 

In death's calm sleep within that hallowed place, — 

"Temple of Peace" — sacred to noble thoughts, 

Born of a mind from whose clear depths they gushed 

Like springs unchecked, in streams of silver words. 

Champion of right! of poor humanity! 

Though ne'er inured to hardship or to toil, 

His great mind could conceive of wretchedness 

And want; of penury that left its sting 

In hearts that sank beneath its deadly touch; 

And all these pitying scenes of human life 

Stampt on his brain, he, with untiring zeal, 

Strove to replace with something bright and fair; 

To hang along the pictured walls of time, 

Scenes upon which the Angel-hosts could gaze, 

Nor turn in grief away. In statesmanship 

And knowledge unsurpassed, he plead the cause 

Of the down-trodden race, and sought to lift 

The common people up to higher planes 

Of thought and action, by his fearless speech. 

And now, the head that planned, the heart that beat 

Responsive to their need, are still in death! 

But for this noble, for this "Grand old man," 

O, who hath tears to weep! his work is done, 

His sun of life in radiant light has set, 

To rise in splendor in some brighter sphere. 

Though leagues of ocean intervene between, 

United prayers go up from hearth and shrine, 

Attesting his great worth. Though millions mourn 

His loss, his influence, through coming years, 

Will still be felt; a power for good, moving 

To duty with a purpose true, brave souls, 

28 



To do and dare for others' sake; cementing 
Nations in the bonds of unity and peace, 
And helping bring the glorious kingdom in, 
Of truth, and love, and human righteousness. 



HALF MAST 

In memory of our martyred President, William McKinley, 
Assassinated September 6, 1901. 

Droops the flag, a Nation's glory, 

Over all the land today! 
Sadly in the breeze it flutters; 

Draped its colors bright and gay; 
For our loved and honored chieftain, 

After days of weary pain, 
Pierced by an assassin's bullet, 

Lo, is lying with the slain! 

Not in fiendish guise, the murderer 

Did the deadly missile send; 
Not in secret or in silence, 

But in semblance of a friend 
Pressed he, through the crowd surrounding, 

Where our noble leader stood 
With his friendly hand extended 

In true love and brotherhood! 

But the demon held a weapon 

Close concealed from mortal view; 
And the angels turned, with shuddering, 

From the deed he fain would do! 
Sped the bullet on its errand, 

Pierced that noble heart and brave; 
Now a Nation mourns in sorrow, 

O'er another martyr's grave. 

29 



But the wheel of time is turning, 

Justice sleeps but is not dead; 
Though the flames of direst treason 

By the fires of hate are fed, — 
God still reigns! though darkness broodeth 

Over our beloved land, 
He will guide the ship in safety; 

Steer it with his own true hand. 



EGLANTINE 

Pair roses of mid-summer time! 

Thy clusters opening to the light, 
Beneath the scorching July heat, 

Grow strangely beautiful and bright. 

While thy sweet sisters droop and fade, 
Touched by the Sun-God's fervid kiss, 

Thou, in thy maiden modesty, 
Bloom on in blushing loveliness. 

But mingled pain and pleasure lies 
Enfolded in thy glowing heart; 

Why, when the tide of joy runs high, 
Must sorrow ever have her part? 

Dost mourn because the summer tide 
Is hastening onward to its close, 

Or art thou mindful of thy doom, 
Thou sweetly fair, but fragile rose? 

But joy and pain will e'er be found, 
The bitter mingled with the sweet! 

When pleasure's rife, there comes a time 
For sorrow's tears, that all must weep. 



30 



O, it were vain to mourn earth's loss! 

Thy fate, fair rose, will come to all! 
As thy bright leaves will scattered be, 

And one by one to earth will fall, — 

So shall we slumber in the dust! 

O well, if in God's blooming time 
We set our faces towards the light, 

And strive, like thee, to upward climb. 

CLARA BARTON 

Priestess in sufferings's realm, I see thee stand 
Holding a hero's place; in thy right hand 
The Spirit's weapon, wielded not in vain 
Through conflicts fierce, thy noble cause to gain! 

Thy life has been a blessing! fadeless laurels bright 
Should crown thee, "Daughter of the Lght!" 
Whose years, since first their youthful course began, 
Have been devoted to thy fellow man. 

Thou, for thy country in her sore distress, 
Give up thine all! all that thou did'st possess! 
Health, wealth and comfort, love of home and friend. 
All were renounced to serve a noble end! 

Strong was thy will and dauntless! power to feel 
The wounds of others, that thou could'st not heal, 
Led thee to keel, as suppliant at the throne, 
And make thy suffering brother's cause, — thine own. 

Nor, for their mercy, did'st thou plead in vain, 
Or strive to wipe from War's pale brow, the stain! 
For lo! through darkness, of all hope bereft, 
A light doth break, the battle smoke is cleft, 

31 



And gleaming, as a signal sent to save, 
The Red Cross emblem, fold on fold doth wave 
As sign and token of the power and might 
Of woman's love, in struggle for the right! 

0, calm and strong in noble womanhood, 
What power is thine to do another good! 
No mission dost thou claim, but to obey 
The Master's call to work while yet 'tis day. 

For, clear above the tumult and the din 
Of War's dread sound, is ever heard within 
The voice of duty, bidding thee to rise 
And gird thine armor for the sacrifice. 

And deep below the tide of human strife, 
Flows calmly on the current of thy life, — 
Its channel broadening in the onward flow 
Of mercies, done alike to friend or foe. 

In foreign lands, when loud the battle cry 
Soundeth afar, where brave men meet to die, — 
There with the sufferers, by the wounded, slain, 
I see thee kneel upon that battle plain. 

Heaven's true Evangel ! thou dost ever bear 
Tidings of good, and blessings where so e'er 
Thy humble, patient, loving footsteps tend, 
Foe to oppression, and sweet Mercy's friend. 



32 



THE SHRINE OF TAH-KI 

Though the clouds and mist of a century- 
Have hung o'er that western vale, 

Prom out of the past's dim legends 
Comes this sad and wondrous tale. 



On Colorado's peaceful soil, 

Where the village of Georgetown stands; 
Once roamed at will, through forests wild, 

Ferocious Indian bands. 

For years there had been a struggle 

'Tween the tribes on the mount and plain; 

Now, a "Council of Peace" was called for, 
And the Chief among the Cheyennes, — 

Was Cor-nu-co-ya, the powerful; 

While, from the northern tribe, 
The good Tu-se-now was chosen, 

Whose wisdom spread far and wide. 

He brought a beautiful daughter; 

Tah-ki, was the maiden's name, 
The pride of that mountain region, 

And the tribe from which she came. 

Long, long, the parley lasted; 

Till a trial of skill was sought; 
And the fiercest, bloodiest battle 

Between the tribes was fought! 

And brave Tu-se-now, the leader 
Of the mountain tribe, was slain; 

And his beautiful daughter captured 
By the "Red Dogs" of the plain. 

as 



But her spirit proud, revolted! 

No slave would she ever be! 
Pure, as the air of her mountains 

She would suffer, or be free! 

And so to a stake they bound her, 

And heaped the fagots high; 
While the smoke and flames ascended 

In streams toward that western sky, — 

Until every trace and vestige 
Of the beauty that once had been, 

Was swept from the sight of her captors, 
As the last cloud rose to heaven. 

And then — a strange convulsion! 

As though Nature did rebel, 
The mountains shook and trembled, 

Then on them tottering fell, 

Burying in terror beneath them, 

The victors with the slain; 
Heaped in one mass together 

Upon that battle plain! 

The captives, from a distance, 

Gazed upward in affright; 
When lo! upon that broken cliff, 

They saw a wondrous sight! 

Upon its face, carved from the rock, 

Behold, the features fair, 
Of Tah-ki brave, the martyred maid, 

Who late had suffered there! 



34 



Still stands the statue, where it stood 

A hundred years ago, 
Keeping its silent vigil there, 

O'er the graves of friend and foe! 

Above that peaceful village, 

Like a sentinel it stands, 
Guarding with trustful care the spot, 

Where sleep those Indian bands! 

And long, the dusky warriors, 

The followers of her line, 
Came yearly to that sacred spot 

To kneel at Tah-ki's shrine. 

THE SPIRIT OF THE PAST 

He sits by the fireside musing, 
Watching the embers decay; 

But his thoughts are not in the present, 
But with the past, far away! 

And a pictured face in the firelight, 

Is all that he can see; 
The face and form of his darling, — 

Just as she used to be, 

Before her feet grew weary 

Upon Life's upward road, 
And the pitying angels bore her 

Home, to their blest abode. 

The eyes with the tender lovelight; 

The hair all flecked with gold; 
And the rosy lips, he so often 

Has kissed in the days of old. 

35 



He can hear her rippling laughter; 

'Tis borne to his listening ear 
With every gust of the wintry wind, 

That sound, familiar and dear. 

And he feels her presence near him; 

Her hand on his arm is laid, 
And he hears her whispered greeting, 

"It is I, be not afraid! 

"I've come from the home of the spirit- 

The land of the shadowy past, 
To bring you my love and blessing, 
The love that time doth outlast! 

"I'm nearer to you than seeming, 

For Death but unbars the way, 
And the soul escapes its confines 
When it throws off its garb of clay! 

"Though life is shrouded with sorrow, 

With doubt and blinding fear, 
Love lights the opening portal, 
And the angel hosts draw near. 

"And over the sad and suffering, — 

The weary, earth-tired one, 
They breathe their tenderest blessing, 
Whene'er you bid them come." 



36 



THE FATED VILLAGE 

A mist lies low o'er the valley! 

Though the sun is shining bright, 
A cloud is gathering darkly 

That soon will obscure the light! 
Far off we can hear a murmur, 

Like the ocean's restless tide, 
As it sweeps the shores of fancy, 

With its waters, deep and wide; 

And the peaceful, happy village, 

That lies nestling in the glen, 
Is swept from our gaze forever, — 

Fom the sight and sound of men! 
The place we have known since childhood, 

Ah! never again shall we see! 
Like the fated village of Grand-Pre, 

'Twill live but in memory. 

We can see a sad procession, 

Like the villagers of yore, 
Pass out to the open highway 

With their household goods and store; 
And, like the Acadia peasants, 

Look back with many a sigh 
And heartfelt sob of anguish, — 

Bidding a fond goodbye 

To the homes their hearts have cherished, 

To which they fondly cling; 
Where they've lived and loved together 

Since life's bright, early spring; 
These hallowed spots in memory, 

Sacred to all the past, 
The drear, deserted hearthstones 

On which they have looked their last. 



87 



O not as of old, will the forests 

In their strength and beauty abide! 
For lo, the hand of the spoiler, 

Will lay them low, in their pride! 
No wail from their desolate branches; 

No answering sob or sigh, 
To tell of the sad, sad story, 

Or to give back a lone reply. 

Only a wild waste of waters! 

Beneath whose darkened wave, 
The hopes of the past lie buried 

Within a watery grave. 
But naught can dim the picture, , 

Or hide from memory's gaze, 
The bright, the blissful vision 

Of the scenes of other days. 

OLD PORTRAITS 

Loan Exhibit. Fiftieth Anniversary, Town of Clinton, Mass. 
June 18, 1900. 

From walls of parlor and study, 

From cosey corner and nook, 
They are brought, these portraits olden, 

On which we delight to look. 
The young in the pride of manhood; - 

The grey haired sire and wife 
Who have passed beyond's earth's shadows 

To the light of heavenly life. 

And for those who have cleared the pathway 

In which we walk today, 
We would twine a wreath of remembrance, 

And garland their brows with bay! 
For they were the brave, strong hearted, 



The founders of our town, 
Who strove not for honor or glory, 
Or to win the world's renown. 

Who boasted not of their conquests ; 

Who gloried not in the fall 
Of the leading ones in power, 

But who labored, each and all 
To raise a goodly structure, 

One that would long endure, 
Perfect in its proportions, 

In its foundation sure. 

Lovers o£ law and order, 

They strove to sow with care 
The seeds of truth and temperance 

Within their borders fair; 
That they might yield a harvest 

For future hands to reap; 
A store of richest treasure 

That would forever keep. 

MOONLIGHT 

Softly the moonlight bathes earth's fevered brow! 

Tenderly, as a mother's soothing hand 

Is laid upon her restless, sleeping child, 

Worn out and weary with its long day's sport, — 

So falls its touch upon the tired earth 

When from its work-day struggle 'tis released! 

What peace and quiet do its pale beams shed 

Upon the heart grown weary with earth's cares, 

Longing for rest, and yet denied its boon! 

Like a clear tide it floods the spirit o'er, 

And bringeth peace with its pure light serene. 

39 



Free as God's air, it blesseth all alike, 
And falls as brightly on the peasant's cot, 
As on the gilded palace of the king! 
The weary sentry, on his nightly round, 
Gathers new strength whene'er its cheerful rays 
Dispel the darkness; and Hope and Courage, 
Man's unfaltering guides, attend his steps, 
Renerve his sinking frame, to boldly stand, 
Fearless and strong in danger's staring face, 
Upheld and strengthened by its magic spell. 

The lonely prisoner, through his narrow grate, 
Hails it with joy, when silently it steals, — 
Stealthy and noiseless as a midnight thief, 
Across his cold, damp cell And those who lie 
Helpless on beds of pain, welcome its presence 
As a bright guest sent from the spirit world, 
When its bright rays light up the darkened room 
With silvery radiance, pure as heavens' beams. 

Peaceful it lies upon the grassy mound, 
Where calmly sleep the loved and sainted dead! 
Lighting the darkness of the yew tree's shade, 
And, gleaming on the marble stone, we read 
By its pale light, the cherished name carved deep 
Upon its surface bright, the name of those 
Who sleep below, unmindful of its beams 
Because their spirits bright bathe in the light, 
The purer light of Heaven's eternal glow. 



40 



ANGEL WIFE 

"Lightly lies the snow above thee, 

Angel Wife! 
Pure as was thy loving spirit, 

Soul and life! 
Covering the faults of others, 

With thy love; 
Dropping balm, as drops the snowflake 

From above. 

"Blessing me with untold blessings, 

All my life! 
When Life's tempest beat about us, 

Calm in strife! 
Ever to God's will submitting 

Thou did'st bow; 
Hoping, trusting, loving, praying, 

Happy thou! 

"Faithful to the words imprinted 

True and grand, 
On thy precious Bible's cover, 
By thy hand; 
'On Life's short but onward journey, 
Passing through, — 
What I can of loving service, 
Let me do!" 

"Pledge I, to thy loving spirit, 

Angel Wife! 
With the Father's help and blessing, 

Through my life, 
Ever to thy blessed memory 

True to be, 
That our lives be not divided 

Through Eternity." 

41 



FREEDOM SONG 

Dedicated to the W. C. T. U., Clinton, Mass., on their 
Twenty-first Anniversary. 

Freedom! what means the word 
To those who ne'er have heard 

Its blissful sound? 
Who grope in error's night, 
Uncheered by Love's pure light, 
No star of Hope in sight, 

In fetters bound. 

Slave to Drink's fearful vice; 
Pure manhood's sacrifice, 

Its curse and blight! 
Luring from virtue's way; 
Wielding its deadly sway; 
Keeping the right at bay, 

With powerful might. 

Freedom from galling chains, 
And from the curse that reigns 

On every hand! 
Bravely to stand alone; 
Fearless the right to own, 
And Sin's dark ways disown, 

With courage grand. 

Freedom to fight the foe 
That bringeth pain and woe, 

The tyrant — Rum! 
That earth's weak ones allure; 
Robbing the rich and poor; 
Bringing destruction sure 

To heart and home. 
Freedom to rid our land 

42 



Of its accursed brand, 

Of its foul stain! 
To drive from gilded den 
This foe, in garb of friend, 
And all our sons defend 

From sin and shame. 

"For God and Home/' we stand! 
For this and every land 

Pledge we to night! 
The battle ne'er give o'er, 
Till, on fair Freedom's shore, 
The scourge of Drink no more 

Shall cast its blight. 



DARKNESS AND LIGHT 

11 Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the 
morning." 

Swiftly the shadows fringe the hem of day, 
As darkness traileth on the robes of night! 
Forth come the stars, Heaven's shining jewels bright, 
Studding its bosom with their steady ray, 
Like beacons, set for wandering souls astray; 
Amidst the gloom they shine with radiant light, 
Symbols of strength, of loving power and might, 
Whose splendor guides, whose care protects alway. 

Anon, the first faint streaks of coming dawn 
Purple the east; the stars fade, one by one, 
Before the brightness of the day new-born, 
The dazzling splendor of the rising sun! 
So will earth's night of pain and grief give way, 
Beneath the light of Heaven's resplendent day. 



EVIL 

O, the mystery of evil, 

In a world where God doth reign! 
Sin, in every form, abounding; 

Want, and misery, and pain! 
Who can tell us of its meaning? 

Who its mission can define, 
Or, with Optimist declare it 

"Educator of mankind!" 

Lo, it lurks in every corner 

Of this universe so fair! 
Are there roses in our pathway? 

Piercing thorns bid us beware! 
Does the sunshine, with its brightness, 

Flood us with a golden light? 
Gathering shadows soon obscure it; 

Day gives place to darkest night! 

Hear the whole creation groaning 

In its throes of grief and pain! 
Never note of joy or gladness, 

But is heard a minor strain; 
Blooming youth, and sturdy manhood, 

By Death's cruel hand laid low! 
Mourning hearts, and lonely hearthstones, 

Sorrows, such as all may know. 

Wherefore this, again we question? 

Must sin ever dwell on earth? 
All the hates, the strifes, the passions, 

O'er, and o'er again, have birth? 
Is our faith in progress waning, 

That we muse in doubting mood, 
And may not this present evil, 

Be the undeveloped good? 

44 



FROST FLOWERS 

Gifts of the virgin year, 

Spotless and bright; 
Clad in your vestal robes 

Of dazzling white; 
Brightly o'er hill and vale 

Your blossoms gleam; 
Clustered in shining groups 

By wood and stream! 

Gone is the summer's bloom, — 

Locked fast in sleep! 
Naught but the pale frost flowers, 

Their vigils keep! 
Peering like spectres white 

Through the crisp snow, 
Ghosts of the blossoms sweet, 

Of long ago. 

Sown by stern Winter's hand, 

Nursed by his cold, 
Lo, at his magic touch 

Their leaves unfold; 
Decking each woodland spray 

With snowy plume; 
Making the wayside drear 

To bud and bloom. 

How their frail blossoms white, 

Gladden the eye! 
Seem they like spirit flowers 

Dropped from the sky! 
As frail and shadowy like; 

One moment here, 
Then from our raptured sight, 

They disappear. 

45 



SWEET DEATH 

We shrink from Death, regarding him a foe, 
Whom we should kindly welcome as a friend 
To gently lead us, when we near life's end, 
Where we, in blindness, cannot see to go, — 
To fairer fields where living waters flow 
And brighter skies above us gently bend; 
Where loved ones' voices in rich music blend, 
And bid us welcome home, in accents low. 

O, wherefore call it Death, this all of life! 
Life, where no shade of sorrow e'er can come; 
Full and abounding, free from pain and strife, 
Where no heart suffers, nor shall hopeless roam; 
Where love, and joy, and heavenly peace is rife, 
Life that is health, and happiness, and home. 



THE SPIRIT WORLD 

The spirit world lies all about us here ! 
Its borders touch this alien land of ours! 
Fragrant our air with breath of unseen flowers, 
Sweet incense wafted from that heavenly sphere; 
While distant still, but ever growing clear, 
Through the still pauses of earth's lonely hours, 
Sweet spirit voices from those radiant bowers, 
Like music fall upon our listening ear! 

O, not in some dim, phantom realm remote, 
Dwell the pure souls, freed from this mortal clay! 
But nearer to us than we e'er may note, 
They walk with us through all life's rugged way! 
And blends the earthly with the heavenly love, 
As human hands clasp viewless ones above. 

46 



THE WAY TO HEAVEN 

" So many roads lead up to God 'twere strange if any soul 
should miss them all." 

I have oft times read of the "Shining Way," 

That only the Saints have trod; 
Whose streets are paved with glittering gold, 

Leading up to the throne of God! 
But somehow the vision grows dim and blurred, 

I can see but the thorny road, 
Where earth's weary ones, through the dust and heat, 

Are bearing Life's heavy load. 

But sometime, I know, the journey will end, 

And the last long mile be past; 
The thorny be merged in the shining way, 

And home be reached at last! 
For the way to Heaven leads up through Earth; 

Though it windeth and windeth on, 
It will lead, at last, to the "Golden Door," 

And to rest in the sweet Beyond. 

THE GOLDEN KEY 

A golden lock with a misfitted key, 

That opens not the door of mystery, 

The human heart, wherein is hid from view 

The soul's rich mine, that's only known to few; 

A chosen few, — twin souls, that ne'er can part, 

For love's strong tendrils bind them heart to heart. 

Our truest motives oft times are belied, 
Because the golden key is never tried; 
The key of love, of justice, that will ope 
The door to trust, to happiness and hope; 
Those priceless jewels of the heart and mind, 
Which, if we seek, we ever more shall find. 

47 



How oft we miss the means of doing good 
Because, alas! we are not understood! 
How blind or dull of sight, who cannot see 
With inner vision, what we strive to be; 
Who gauge us only by the outward sight, 
Nor read our souls by love's unclouded light. 

The deepest sorrow that the heart can feel, 
Is when it tries that sorrow to conceal! 
When all its efforts and its aims for good 
Are daily, hourly, being misconstrued! 
How sweet the thought that in the better land, 
We, face to face, shall see and understand. 



SAINT FRANCES 

In Memory on Frances E. Willard. 
Deceased Feb. 17, 1898. 

" I am Merlin, and I am dying, but I'll follow the Gleam," 

"How beautiful to be with God!" she said, 
When darkness veiled her eyes from mortal scene, 

And she, no more, could follow on the "Gleam" 

That shone afar, albeit, o'er the dead, 

It shed its halo round her sainted head. 

From death to life she woke as from a dream! 

The heavenly light still shone with radiant beam, 
As angel hands, her spirit upward led. 

Well did she struggle on life's battle-plain 
To rout the foe, — our Leader in command — 
With Sin's dread host encamped upon the field, 
Nobly she fought for God and native land! 
Well may we crown her "Saint," and to her bring 
Our heart's best gifts; love's richest offering. 

48 



LAUS DEO 

"God is with us; He has brought us through!" 
So sang the Russian peasants, as thy came 
To our free shores, from tyranny and shame; 
Like that brave band of exiles, strong, but few, 
That came of old, the valiant and the true, 
They seek a land, where, without wrong or blame, 
They can, unhindered, call upon God's name, 
Fearless of man, and of his power to do. 

That sovereign power, that brooks no thought or 

mood 
Beyond its will; for God, to them, means Good! 
A power of life; a power of love and light, 
Implanted in them, their eternal right; 
Of thought and reason, freedom from all ill, 
Save that which comes of His most holy will. 



A VANISHED RACE 

Preserved in bronze! the last of all their race! 

The stalwart form, the features strong and bold, 

That marked the visage of those tribes of old, 

Fashioned in models, ere is lost the trace, 

Or likeness true, of that strange Indian face! 

But, from those passive lips can n'er be told 

The cruel wrongs and sufferings manifold, — 

The story of a Nation's sore disgrace. 

Robbed of their rights, dupes of the white man's spoil, 

These sons of Nature, free-born of her soil, 

Before the march of progress, one by one, 

At his behest have moved still further on; 

Their tribes, on every hand, swept far and wide, 

Like helpless crafts upon an ocean tide. 

49 



MORN 

Thou comest, Morn, in light and beauty clad; 
With shining jewels in thy golden hair, 
And rosy blushes on thy forehead fair; 
Lighting with smiles the face of Nature sad, 
And, by thy presence, making all things glad! 
Sweet is thy breath with countless odors rare; 
O, nothing purer can with it compare, 
Or, to its perfume, richer fragrance add. 

And hushed thy steps, as though afraid that they 
Might waken mortals from their slumbers deep; 
Noiselessly swings the pearly gate of day, 
As thou, from night's embrace, doth softly creep! 
And they, who lone and weary vigils keep, 
Welcome thy coming o'er the shining way. 

REUNITED 

To J. L. C. 

Only a little way 

To where your loved one's gone! 
Only a shining path that led 

From darkness unto dawn. 

Only a step before 

Your toiling feet, she stands 
Secure upon the heavenly heights, 

Above earth's shadow land. 

Only a little while 

Of loneliness and pain, 
Ere you will meet the loved and lost, 

Never to part again. 

50 



THE FADELESS FLOWER 

Upon the removal of the body of General Grant from the 
tomb where it had rested twelve years, there was found in a 
wreath placed upon the cedar box containing his casket, a white 
rose, in an almost perfect state of preservation, 

O, fadeless rose, sweet type of constancy! 
Guarding his rest through all these silent years, 
Changeless and pure, undimmed by shade or fears; 
Like faithful sentinel that will not flee, 
Or leave the treasure trusted unto thee! 
It may be, that the loved ones tender tears, 
Shed o'er thy bloom, for him, who knew no peers, 
Hath kept thee fresh and fair, immortality. 

Sleep on, thou Hero! thou hast won thy rest! 
It matters not what sepulchre be thine ! 
Thy memory, within each freeman's breast, 
Hath found a truer, a more sacred shrine! 
Fadeless and pure, like thine sweet rose, the bloom 
Of love's immortelles, laid upon his tomb. 



AUTUMN LEAVES 

See them gaily fluttering down! 
Jewels bright from Autumn's crown, 
Crimson-tinted, amber and brown. 

Softly falling in golden showers; 
Dropping down through the stilly hours, 
From Summer's thickly woven bowers. 

Weaving a carpet like cloth of gold; 
Laying it deftly, fold on fold, 
Fresh from the loom of Nature old. 

51 



Spreading the forests and fields we tread 
With a coverlet warm for the flowers' bed; 
Shielding them from the storms o'er head. 

Floating away to their peaceful rest; 
Nestling closely to Earth's warm breast, 
Like birdlings to their downy nest. 

Dropping, as drops the ripened grain 
When the harvest is on the wane; 
Falling down with the Autumn rain! 

Gently swooning at Nature's feet; 
Hiding away in some lone retreat, 
To sleep their long and dreamless sleep. 



SOUL FETTERS 

If deeply hidden in thine heart, 

Some hope or wish lies unexpressed; 
A dream, that haunts thee, day by day, 

That will not let thy spirit rest; 

If doubt or fear thine acts control, 

O, be not of thyself afraid, 
But break the fetters of thy soul; 

Be what thou prayest to be made! 

Let not the sound of worldly speech, 

E'er check thee in thine onward course! 
Heed not its censure or its praise, 

But listen to the inward voice 
That bids thee stand for truth and right; 

And own the law that makes men free, — 
The law of love, not bound by creed, 

That giveth life and liberty. 

52 



CURFEW BELLS 

Welcome in the old time ringing 

Of the Curfew Bell! 
Peace and gladness it is bringing, 

Hear it rise and swell! 
Ringing out, the lawless customs 

Of the present time; 
Ringing in the reign of order, 

With its tuneful chime. 

Anxious hearts grown tired with waiting, 

Hail its glad return! 
Light the fire upon the hearthstone, 

Let it brightly burn! 
For the hour of the home coming 

Now is drawing on; 
Listen to the Curfew pealing! 

Day is past and gone. 

Gone the noisy sound and clamor 

Of the busy mart! 
Now the rest, and quiet home-joys, 

Should engage the heart! 
For the flame upon its altar 

Ever burneth bright; 
Steadfastly, above all others, — 

Love's true beacon light. 

Gather in our sons and daughters 
From the crowded street! 

Let them find beneath the roof-tree, 
Sure and safe retreat! 

For the powers of sin and darkness 
Lie in wait without; 

Save the young, the weak, the guileless, 



53 



Put the foe to rout! 
Ringing out the lawless customs 

Of the present time ; 
Ringing in the reign of order, 

With its tuneful chime. 



THE MAGIC SEA 

I sit by the side of the magic sea, 
And gaze on its blue immensity! 
I hear it murmur a glad refrain; 
Anon, it will sob, like a soul in pain! 
O wonderful sea, whose history deep 
Its white-lipped waves will ever keep, 
Nor ae'er reveal the secrets that hide 
Beneath its ebbing and flowing tide. 

What marvelous tales of wrecks, O sea! 

On thy raging surf could written be! 

Of thy caverns deep, where lie in state, 

The brave, true hearts, of the good and great! 

What millions of wealth thou hast in store, 

That will ne'er be swept on thy wave-washed shore; 

The priceless treasures of toil and gain, 

Deep, deeply buried, beneath the main. 

O magical sea! thou dost cast a spell 
O'er this heart of mine that I ne'er can tell! 
A feeling sublime, that is mingled with fear; 
Of wonder, and awe of the power that is here, 
Who holds the waters within His hand, 
And guides the ships to the waiting strand 
That, breasting the wind and the seething foam, 
Bringeth the wanderer safely home. 

54 



THE DEPARTED 

Call them not dead, who, in departing, leave 

A living presence, though we see them not! 

A look, a tone, that cannot be forgot; 

And though for them our lonely hearts may grieve, 

Fond Memory brings a kind, though sad reprieve, — 

A respite from the sorrow of our lot, 

And gives the absent back to us in thought, 

To cheer and strengthen, comfort and relieve. 

For us they wrought! and bravely bore their part 

Like noble heroes, to defend the right; 

And slight the burdens that we bear to day, 

Because their zeal has helped to make them light! 

For us they cleared, like pioneers, the way; 

O, may we keep their names in memory, bright. 

RALPH WALDO EMERSON 

Whene'er I gaze upon thy kindly face, 
So full of tenderness and noble thought, 
I think how much thy gifted mind has wrought 
For God and man. In the sweet words of grace 
Dropped from thy pen, thy power for good I trace; 
Those words of truth, with inspiration fraught, 
Whose deepest meaning was from Heaven caught, 
No lapse of time or change, can e'er efface. 

But not alone thy matchless words of song 

Shall live for aye; thy noble life as well, 

Shall, through the coming of the ages long, 

In acts of love its true devotion tell! 

"Though hearts are dust, still will heart's loves 

remain," 
And blossom forth in other lives again. 

55 



FRIENDS 

Too oft, alas! friends are not what they feign! 
For friendship dulls, like to a gilded toy, 
Where, by and by, is shown the base alloy, 
And on its glowing surface bright, a stain 
That larger grows; and though we try in vain 
To bring the lustre back, like some past joy, 
That time, with ruthless hand came to destroy, 
'Tis gone, and never more will come again. 

But there are friends that time can never change! 
Whose friendship pure, no spot or stain can mar; 
That years or distance never can estrange: 
Like steady beam of some fixed, glowing star 
That wanders never through Heaven's distant range, 
Their friendship, like their souls, immortal are. 



HOSPITAL SHIP— BAT STATE 

Floats the Life Ship upon the waiting tide! 
United souls in hamlet, town and mart, 
Hail her with joy! and pulses every heart 
As forth she sails, in stately pomp and pride, 
On her blest mission o'er the ocean wide, 
Fully equipped and manned in every part; 
Hope for her anchor, Wisdom for her chart, 
The Red Cross signal her defence and guide. 

Where fierce and wild the storms of battle beat, 
She pours her oil upon the seething wave, 
Calming the raging tide of fever's heat! 
While Mercy stands beside the helm to save; 
And Pity, with her tender touch and sweet, 
Rescues Death's victims from a yawning grave. 

56 



OMNIPRESENCE 

Lo, God is here! behold His seal is laid 
In brightest colors, if we will but look 
And read aright fair Nature's open book. 
In glowing type we see it here displayed 
On field and forest, shining wood and glade; 
In varied tints, on every wayside nook, 
And painted leaf, gay mirrored in the brooks- 
God's autograph, in gold and crimson made. 

O, clearer far than sacred words proclaim, 
Do Nature's voices, as with one accord, 
Declare alike His great and holy name; 
The ever living, ever present God! 
The life of all this wondrous world we see, 
Omniscient, omnipresent Deity. 



THE PASSING YEAR 

Another year has winged its silent flight 
Across the dim and tractless waste of years, 
Bearing our burdens, all our hopes and fears; 
All that it brought of sorrow or delight, 
Is merged in darkness, as the day in night! 
But clear and bright in Memory's sky, appears 
The star of faith, that lights the way and cheers, 
And brings the past again before our sight. 

The bright springtime of promise that was ours 
We live again, nor count it one spring less; 
The summer comes with all its wealth of flowers, 
And gives us back the old-time happiness; 
And autumn glories fade not from our sight 
Through winter's reign of coldness and of blight. 

57 



MAY'S ADVENT 

Give place, give place, O April kind, 
For her who comes to win the prize; 

Who follows with her royal train 
Through greener fields, neath fairer skies! 

The trees put on their bridal robes; 

The air is filled with sweet perfume; 
The wild bird's carol wakes the morn, 

And all is beauty, all is bloom. 

But not in vain thy skies have wept, 
Thy grief distilled in tears of rain, 

For thou has brought from seeming death 
Life, light and beauty, once again. 

Nor thine alone the sacrifice! 

Soon will fair May, with cheeks of bloom, 
Grow pale, and languish by the side 

Of her blithe sister, bright-eyed June. 

ASPIRATION 

Something to do, some purpose to fulfill; 
Some plan evolve, for hand and heart and will; 
For earnest labor, strong endeavor's might; 
Something to do from early morn till night. 

Something to be, beside the child of fate; 
To break the bars of custom's iron gate; 
Unloose the shackles, bid the soul go free, 
To roam at will through God's immensity! 

Something to see, beyond earth's narrow plane ; 
Some glimpse of Heaven's infiinity to gain; 
To feel that o'er us broods a higher power, 
To cheer and strengthen us from hour to hour. 

58 



Something to do, to carry out His plan; 
Something to do for God and fellow man; 
To help the fainting, and the hungering feed, 
For these the soul doth have eternal need. 



THE BEACON LIGHT 

Written of the First Parish Church, Ashby, Mass. 

High upon that wind-swept summit, 

Stands the old church on the hill! 
O'er it falls the summer sunlight; 

Round it winter winds blow chill! 
Still it stands through time and changes 

Pointing, with its glittering spire, 
Upward, like a soul aspiring 

•Toward the Heaven of its desire. 

Like a beacon to the sailor, 

Or a watch fire in the night, 
Gleams the light upon its steeple, 

With a starry radiance bright! 
Guide to many a weary pilgrim 

Toiling on in earnest quest, 
Leading them in true devotion 

To this hallowed place of rest, — 

Where the words of Christ, the Master, 

Fall upon the listening ear; 
Blessed words of truth and duty, 

Bringing comfort, hope and cheer! 
"Be your light a guide to others; 

Your true life a quenchless flame 
Kindling cold hearts of others; 

Glorifying God's great name." 

59 



THE SONG OF THE BELLS 

List ! to the musical chime of the bells, 
Pealing out clearly upon the still air; 
Sweetly inviting to praise and to prayer! 
Now, like a chorus, it rises and swells! 
Now, softly speaks, in a language that tells 
All earth's weary souls, o'ershadowed with care, 
Patiently striving life's sorrows to bear, 
To look to the Light that all darkness dispels. 

Sweetly it echoes like tones of the past, 
Ringing the notes of a gladsome song; 
Telling of joys, that ever will last; 
Of love, that endures through Eternity long; 
Bidding them hope and forever hold fast 
To right, that will triumph over the wrong. 



SUNDAY 

Sweet Sabbath day! the chief among the seven! 
Glad day of rest, to toiling millions given! 
Bringing the weary, over-burdened soul, 
A balm of peace, to heal and make it whole. 

Throw open wide the sanctuary door, 

That all may freely enter, and no more 

Stand from without! aye, seek the wandering one, 

And bid him gladly to God's dwelling come. 

But not alone the temples made by man 
Invite his presence. Lo, on every hand 
Nature to Heaven lifts up her tall green spires, 
And from her chancel chant His chorus choirs. 

60 



Dare not with lawlessness the day profane! 
And make it not a time for greed or gain, — 
This chosen one, in wisdom set apart, 
To rest the body, and refresh the heart. 



MEMORY BELLS 

"I can see the bells low swinging, 

Bells that you, dear heart, had planned 
Should be hung within the Chancel 

As though placed by my own hand! 
Do not grieve because they could not, 

On this bright, glad day of cheer, 
For I see and know dear Mother, — 

And in spirit I am here! 

"I remember how, on Easter, 

Stood I, on the Altar stair, 
And repeated words you taught me, 

Of God's boundless love and care! 
Of the stars that never fail us; 

Of the earth, the sky, the sea, 
How for all of these He careth, 

But the niost of all, for me! 

"For it said, — that Easter message, 

And how true it seems to day, 
'God and I will live and love you, 

When all else has passed away!' 
Let the Memory Bells swing outward! 

I can hear their blessed chime, 
Ringing peace and joy and gladness; 

Yours, dear Mother, for all time." 

Gl 



AT LAST 

In memory of M. K. F. 

In peace and rest at last! 

Grown weary on Life's way, 
Sweetly she sleeps, as toilers sleep, 

Calmly at close of day. 

With folded hands and still, 

Her burdens all laid down, — 
Earth's heavy cross of grief and pain, 

Exchanged for Heaven's bright crown. 

How like, her life and death! 

Calmly Life's path she trod, 
Meekly she bowed to Heaven's decree, 

Her will, the will of God! 

In saintly patience still, 
Though sick and sad of heart, 

Bravely she strove for others sake, 
To do her humble part. 

With tender care to lead 

The aged steps and slow, 
Gently adown Life's western slope, 

Through the bright sunset glow. 

But now her journey's o'er! 

Her days of sorrow passed! 
With joy she's reached the heavenly home; 

Safe with the loved at last. 



62 



APRIL RAIN 

List, O list! the gentle tapping 

Of the April rain! 
To my heart it brings no sorrow, 

Neither sigh nor pain, 
As I listen to its music 

O'er and o'er again. 

For its tears of seeming anguish 

Are not shed in vain! 
Nature's heart for them doth languish! 

Bound by Winter's chain, 
How it leaps and thrills with gladness 

At the April rain! 

How the shrunken grass blades quiver, 

As the falling rain 
Drops upon their downcast faces 

On the barren plain; 
And they wake to life and verdure, 

At its sweet refrain! 

And the flowers greet its coming! 

Silent have they lain 
Underneath the cold, damp leaflets 

Waiting for the rain! 
Now, with smiling eyes of beauty, 

Look they up again. 



63 



WITCH HAZEL 

A shy little witch, is Hazel, 

Who waits until summer has fled, — 
Till all the woods are sere and brown, 

And all the flowers are dead, — 
Before she will venture a footstep, 

This strange little maid, demure, 
Or come, with face all smiling, 

To open her close-shut door. 

But when Saint Martin's summer, 

With its still and sunny days, 
Throws its mantle over Autumn, — 

Of soft and purple haze; 
When you catch a gleam all golden 

On the trees, like fine lace spun, 
Ah! then you may know that Hazel 

Her dress making has begun. 

She is robing her maids of the forest, 

In the loveliest summer gown, 
That far outrivals in beauty, 

The rustling, brown dresses around; 
And thus, you may always find her, 

At work, while others rest, — 
This tardy child of Nature, 

Who follows her own behest. 

SLEEP 

Strange guest, who stealest with thy noiseless tread, 
Through the dim chambers of the silent night, 
Putting our sorrows and our cares to flight, — 
Thy gentle footfall wakes no sound of dread, 
But bringest peace and quietness instead! 

64 



Like happy children, filled with strange delight, 
As some new wonder bursts upon their sight, 
So, step by step, through dream-land are we led. 

O, sad, indeed, and wretched were our lot, 

If we, thy kindly aid could not implore! 

Thou makest smooth each rough and rugged spot, 

And easest all our heavy budens sore! 

When worn and weary, how we flee to thee 

For rest and strength, thou "Lesser mystery." 

THE VESPER HYMN 

"Come sing to me my darling, 

For the light is growing dim; 

The song you sing at twilight, — 

That sweet old vesper hymn! 

"It will sooth my troubled spirit, 

With its soft and tender strain, 
Lifting the burden of sorrow, 
And easing the heart of pain. ,, 



"Abide wth me, for swiftly 

The shadows round me glide 
Like phantoms, while the darkness 
Deepens on every side. 

"Be with me when Night's pinions 

Around my pathway sweep! 
O, fold Thy love around me 
That I may sweetly sleep! 

"And when Life's night is ended, 

Its fitful dreaming o'er, 
Then may a blissful morning break, 
Upon the eternal shore." 

65 



LAS CA SAS 

Freedom's apostle! who, with tireless zeal, 
Though dangers rife, on land and on the sea, 
Undaunted strove to make God's freeman, free! 
When bold invaders sought their wealth to steal, 
To lordly monarchs thou didst humbly kneel 
To pray for justice on thy bended knee, 
For these rude sons, for safety forced to flee 
From home and altar; but with vain appeal. 

Well hast thou earned the title thou didst gain, 
"The Red Man's Counsellor, Protector, Friend;" 
Thy great heart felt their cruelty and pain 
And their just rights didst zealously defend; 
Through the long years thy name has honored been 
Who gave thy life to free thy fellow men. 



SYMPATHY 

Sweet Sympathy, thy task is manifold! 
Soft is thy touch, and kind as Pity's child; 
By thee earth's weary ones are oft beguiled; 
With tender hands thou bindest on the soul 
Thy soothing balms, that heal and make it whole! 
When waves of passion beat against it wild, 
Thou calm'st the tempest with thy presence mild, 
As gently as the Master did, of old. 

O, great thy skill to sweeten sorrow's cup, 
And ease the heart that long hath fed on pain; 
To bid the drooping soul, in faith look up, 
As drooping flowers, after summer's rain; 
And at Hope's royal feast once more to sup, 
And taste the joys of happiness again. 

L9FC, 



A COMMON HEAVEN 

One common Heaven for that uncommon soul 
Who makes this earth its only end and goal; 
Who holds aloof, in selfishness of heart, 
From common things where it should bear a part, 
And on a pedestal of human pride 
Sets up a standard for its special guide. 

One common Heaven, and no uncommon earth 
For souls of high, or souls of lowly birth! 
For all can breathe alike God's common air, 
Earth's beauty see, and all its glory share; 
Whether as toilers with the hand or brain 
For daily bread, or selfish greed or gain. 

One common Heaven for monarch or for slave, 
For all must share alike a common grave; 
No sect or creed can there God's laws define, 
In Heaven is neither caste nor color line; 
Within His loving, all embracing heart, 
No soul select can hold itself apart. 



INWARD LIGHT 

Dedicated to Helen Keller. 

Blind to earth's sights, and deaf to all its sounds, 
An inward light, thy darkened path surrounds! 
Though mute thy lips, thy answering soul doth teach 
A sweeter language than all human speech! 

Shut out from contact with this world of sin, 
How bright it shines, — the heavenly light within, 
Shedding a halo round thy beauteous brow! 
Purest of all God's men and women, — thou! 

G7 



Thy spirit vision, naught but good can see! 
Thine ear, hear only God's sweet harmony! 
O, blest art thou! for unto thee is given 
An added sense, that makes of earth a heaven. 



PEACE 

Hushed the dread sound of strife! 

A sudden stillness lies! 
The calm that follows after storm, 

On field, and wood and skies. 

A Sababth quiet reigns 

O'er all the peaceful earth! 

Calmed is the tumult and the din; 
Earth's wanton noise and mirth. 

And calm the throbbing hearts 
That late have felt the sting 

Of separation's cruel dart 
That poisons love's sweet spring. 

For, like a blessing given, 
God's peace is falling down 

On armed hosts by land and sea; 
On cot, and camp, and town. 

Like manna, sent of old, 
In grateful showers descend 

His benedictions from above, 
Earth's bitter feuds to end. 



68 



LOVE IN ABSENCE 

Upon her grave I plant the myrtle spray, 
Sweet token of the absent one and dear, 
Whose presence to me ever seemeth near! 
Though Death doth part, it hath no power to slay, 
For Love's eternal, and will live for aye; 
Solace for grief, and foe to every fear, 
Dispelling doubt, and checking sorrow's tear, 
O'er Death it wields its overmastering sway. 

Though ne'er on earth that beauteous face I'll see 
Still smile on me those tender eyes of old; 
Those loving arms still, still encircle me, 
Though pulseless now, they lie all still and cold! 
For Love, the warden, turns for me the key, 
That opens wide the gate of mystery. 



DISENCHANTMENT 

How bright the day! "God's day," we say, 
So clear the sky, so fresh the air; 

Our spirits soar, no longer clay 
We rise towards all things pure and fair. 

A cloud doth hide the sun from sight! 

We sink to earth, frail mortals we, 
Because we cannot bask for aye 

Beneath its warmth and brilliancy. 

And so we rise, and so we fall ! 

Like insects, creatures of the light, 
We sport the while the sunshine lasts, 

But faint and fall with coming night. 

CO 



MATIN SONGS 

Hearken to the dulcet music 
From the choir invisible! 
Songs of thanks and adoration 
Hymned on high in grateful lays 
To their Maker and Preserver; 
Praise to Him, unceasing praise! 

Not alone doth cloudless sunshine 
Bring these strains of minstrelsy! 
Mingling with her tears of sadness, 
Nature's sororwful refrain, 
Cheery notes of birdlike gladness 
Soundeth sweetly through the rain. 

Chide they not our sore repinings, 
These wild songs of ecstacy? 
Seeming faith without restraining, 
Joy unmixed with fear or pain; 
Trust that brooks of no complaining 
Till the days grow bright again. 

COMMUNION 

What need has God, for the weak words of men? 

Enough for Him, if they, with reverent minds 

And souls attuned to praise, lift their glad hearts 

In gratitude above, e'en as the lilies 

Lift their golden cups to drink the sunlight 

And the dew of heaven. What though no sound 

Breaks the deep stillness of the upper air? 

Can not His ear catch the faint murmurs 

From those depths below and send an answer back? 

An echo sweet from out the silence vast, 

That bringeth peace, and holy joy serene. 

70 



EDWARD EVERETT HALE 

Inscribed on his Eightieth Birthday. 

A rounded youth, quick ripening to its prime! 
A golden prime, slow mellowing to old age! 
Student and teacher; poet, priest and sage; 
Whose words of truth, and noble deeds sublime, 
Shall written be on history's glowing page; 
Bright, shining marks, by which mankind can gauge 
Its life, and mould it to a life divine. 

All hail! to him, on this, his natal day, 
Who brought the message, old, but ever new, 
"To upward look; to forward, outward gaze," 
And "lend a hand," to all things good and true ; 
To give ourselves, unmindful of the gain, 
Freely and gladly, "In His blessed name." 



SABBATIA 

Sweet "Rose of Plymouth," still revered thou art! 

As year by year thy blushing buds unfold, 

How often is the story of thee told, 

And of that band of Pilgrims, who, apart, 

In Nature's temples, worshipped God in heart. 

How sweet thy welcome to these souls of old, 

Who, scarce inured to hardship and to cold 

Felt their keen pangs, and sorrow's piercing dart. 

And so they named thee, — as the legend tells, 
"Sabbatia," for the holy Sabbath day, — 
When, in the forest's cool and shady dells, 
They humbly knelt to worship and to pray; 
Where, through the stillness of that calm retreat, 
Thy blossoms fair shed incense at their feet. 

71 



SUNSET ON WAOHUSETT 

I see the sun sink slowly in the west, 
Beyond the distant, blue, Wachusett height! 
Sadly I watch it disappear from sight, 
Leaving behind, upon its wooded crest 
A golden glory, not to be expressed; 
A vision that will linger through the night, 
When sable curtains shall shut out the light, 
And earth retires to sleep and peaceful rest. 
But morning will this splendor all restore! 
Darkness will vanish in its path of flame; 
Nature's sad face will brighter grow once more; 
And sunset-hour will bring to us the same 
Bright vision that with yester-evening came; 
For, day by day, we view God's glory o'er. 

"PEACE I LEAVE WITH YOU" 

Like a holy benediction 
Or the music of a psalm, 
Comes to us the Master's blessing, 
Bringing with it peace and calm! 
Peace that passeth understanding; 
Hope, on which our hearts are stayed; 
O, the comfort of his message, 
"Be not troubled or afraid." 

Be not troubled, though the darkness 
Falls across thy earthly way; 
Though the night of grief and sorrow 
Hides the brightness of the day; 
God still stands within the shadow 
Keeping watch above His own, 
Only trust the Heavenly guidance 
Though it leads through paths unknown. 

72 



ANGEL MOTHER 

Baby, in your cradle nest, 
Softly cooing while you rest, 
What is it we hear you say 
Sweetly crooning, day by day? 
Is your Angel-mother fair 
Kneeling close beside you there, 
Guarding, guiding you from ill, 
Watching o'er your slumbers still? 

See you not her smiling face, 
And her angel form of grace? 
Feel you not her tender hands, 
As she close beside you stands, 
Waiting till her baby sleeps, 
While she heavenly vigil keeps, 
As the Sainted Mother mild 
Watched beside the dear Christ-child. 

She is but removed a space, 
Where you cannot see her face; 
Feel the touch on baby-lips, 
All the nectar that she sips, 
Blessing you her cherished one, 
Dimpled, darling little son, 
With a heavenly love most true, 
And the loved who care for you. 

Angel wife and mother still 
Comes, the vacant chair to fill! 
Gladly leaves the heavenly sphere, 
Hither drawn by sorrow's tear! 
Comes, the loved ones all to bless 
With the old time tenderness; 
Heaven is no blest realm afar, 
Heaven is where the loved ones are. 

7:5 



LARKSPUR 

Sweet blossoms of the summer time! 
I read a promise in your eyes, 
Of sunnier days and warmer skies, 
When gone is winter's snow and rime. 

Gaily you lift to greet the light, 
Your slender plumes of violet hue, 
That borrowed seem, from heaven's blue, 
As clear, as beautiful and bright. 

I pluck from you a tiny spray, 
To glad some other heart than mine, 
And with it send this simple rhyme 
To you, dear friend, so far away, 

Knowing that you will read aright 
The language that its blossom bears, — 
A panacea for your cares; 
I would that it could make them light. 



NATURE'S PATTERNS 

O, the wondrous forms and patterns, 
Nature weaves, with magic art! 

Faultless in their hue and coloring; 
Perfect in their every part, 

From the pure and spotless wind-flower, 
Shivering by some leafless path, 

To the lonely, sad-eyed aster, 
Blooming in the aftermath. 

74 



Varied samples she is weaving 
Out of colors bright and gay; 

Noiselessly she plies her shuttle, 
Fashions them by night and day. 

And anon, with darker shading, 
Richer, deeper tints we see, 

Blended each and all together, 
In a perfect harmony! 

Every leaf and tiny grass blade, 
Every flower that gems the sod 

Is a strand in Nature's fabric, — 
And the pattern maker — God. 



FERN FOLK 

To their home among the mosses 

In the forest's cool retreat, 
See the fern folk, hear them coming, 

List the hurrying of their feet! 
Up the valley, through the lowlands, 

Following fast in Summer's train, 
Bringing verdure, beauty, brightness, 

To their woodland haunts again. 

See their camp beside the river, 

With the low green tents outspread, 
Sheltered by the drooping branches, 

And the leafy boughs o'erhead! 
With the birds and flowers coquetting, 

Nodding, dancing with the breeze, 
Graceful, airy, fairy fern folk, 

Underneath the forest trees. 

75 



What the summer tide without them? 

Fancy we the flowers would die 
If the gentle race of fern folk 

Should desert, or come not nigh! 
If when Nature wove her garment, 

Leaf, and flower, and tender blade, 
She should leave them from the pattern, 

They, so wonderfully made. 

OUR HEROES 

■j ■■.■'.■■ j 

Bring lilies and roses to garland the spot, 

With the tender, blue-eyed forget-me-not; 

Ferns from the woodland, and flowers from the dell; 

Let them breathe a message our lips cannot tell. 

Let them speak of the young, the fair and the brave, 
Who laid down their lives their country to save; 
Who were loyal to duty, to truth and to right, 
And who manfully struggled her battles to fight. 

Struggled and fell; but whose parting breath 
Told of their triumph o'er suffering and death! 
Of Life's warfare ended, its trials passed, 
And the glorious victory gained at last! 

Then cover their graves with the spring tide's bloom ; 
Scatter in showers o'er the new made tomb; 
Let them speak of hope to the sorrowing one; 
Of faith, that can say, "Thy will be done." 

They have fought the good fight! for them there 

remains 
A crown of rejoicing for all of earth's pains; 
Fadeless and purer than these that we bring, — 
Our last and our tenderest offering. 

76 



JAN f 190E 



